Anatomy of the Heart
by SolitaireXL
Summary: Her fears are his and his apprehension is hers. Hiruma and Mamori grow as a couple as Deimon prepares for the Kantou Finals. Rated M for lemons. Obviously HiruMamo
1. Mamori's Heart 'Maybe I'm Amazed'

**Title: **Lesson 1: Mamori's Heart (Maybe I'm Amazed)

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Eyeshield 21

Mamori missed the scene at mall, because she needed to dash over to the stationary store to buy some colorful address cards for the flowers that had arrived at the clubhouse. She also decided that she didn't want to add to the others, and become a distraction if indeed Sena was to receive a confession. It was a relief to her that she hadn't witnessed what happened, because she might have been tempted to break her promise to Hiruma. Hearing the details from Suzuna about the incident brought the vivid memory back about that day. The day she stood up to a beast, and found out she had a devil of a protector.

_The speed with which he appeared right there in front of her, holding four tasers in one hand, the butt of his gun gripped in the other, amazed her. The look on his face had been one of complete and utter resolved determination. Not the same look he had on the field, because the sheer, almost deadly seriousness of his expression had shocked her. _

_Afterwards, as the team was leaving the stadium, she found herself being gripped tightly by the arm and lead away from the rest of the group. She didn't have to look to know who it was; she knew what his touch felt like, what his presence felt like. What took her off guard was the force he used when he shoved her against the wall, the fierce grip he had on her shoulders, the intense gaze in his eyes. Under any other circumstances she might have been terrified._

"_Promise that you won't ever do that again." His tone was stern, and she knew immediately what he was referring to. She only needed to look him in the eye and nod, before he crushed her to him in one of the tightest embraces she had ever received. Then just as quickly as their exchange had begun, it was over, and he was walking ahead of her to follow the rest of the Devil Bats. _

She sighed deeply as she put the thoughts out of her mind of the day she saw the entire Sphinx line decimated by one complete monster. Opening the door to the clubhouse, and gazing upon all the fresh lovely flowers made her feel foolish in thinking that the flowers had been from Hiruma when it was so obvious that he would have never decorated the clubhouse in that way. She had hoped a little of her influence had rubbed off on him, but his reaction to the colorful display had confirmed that there was not much chance of that happening anytime soon. She decided to get rid of all the flowers as quickly as she could.

After painstakingly writing happy thoughts and well wishes on the cards she bought, Mamori placed them into each arrangement. Then she stocked as many as she could in a basket, and fixed the basket to her bike. It took quite a few trips, but she managed to deliver all of the flowers to the local hospital, and even placed some in specific rooms herself. By the time she had arrived back to the clubhouse she was exhausted, but it was imported to her that all traces of the tainted flowers were removed. It was very late by the time she had finished cleaning enough to feel satisfied.

The light tapping of rain could be heard on the clubhouse roof, which made her glad that she always carried an umbrella. It was never too late for rain, and she quickly finished tidying up, not wanting to get caught out in a full blown storm. She decided that cutting across the field would be quicker for her to get home, even though she knew the field would probably cake her shoes in mud by the time she got out of the Deimon gates.

As she rounded the corner to the open football field, her umbrella keeping her dry, she was startled to see a shadowy figure standing near the 50 yard line. She blinked her eyes then squinted in the obscured moonlight to see Hiruma, launching footballs towards the goal posts on the other end. When he had gotten there? When he had managed to drag the large can of footballs out of the clubhouse? How long he had been practicing like this? He wasn't even dressed in his uniform and pads, she could tell as she moved closer. He had on his coat and scarf, the drizzle of rain had not yet drenched his hair to the point that the carefully styled spikes couldn't withstand.

"What are you doing out here, like this?" she said to him once she was standing right behind him. He wasn't startled by her sudden appearance, and as if he had expected her, he continued launching footballs unaffected.

"What does it look like?" he said simply.

"It looks like it's raining, and you'll catch a cold if you stay out here much longer," she countered.

He laughed. It was a joyless cackle, as he if weren't laughing at her at all, but laughing at himself or daring the weather to make him sick.

"Football doesn't get canceled on account of the weather. You should know that by now, fucking manager." He didn't turn around to face her. Instead he just continued to pluck balls out of the can, and launch them clear to the other side of the field. "We just got through playing Oujou in the fucking rain and the fucking mud."

"I know. That's why you should take this time and relax."

"There's no time to relax. I've got to become faster."

"What?"

"With my passes. Right now it's the only way to defeat Gaou," she picked up on the hint of somberness in his tone.

"So even you think that Seibu won't win," it was almost unimaginable to her that the Seibu team could be beat. Even Deimon failed to win against them.

As if picking up on her thoughts, he decided to elaborate. "Everything in that game depends on the speed of Kid's quick draw. If his timing is off even one millisecond, it's fucking over. I'm not going to wait until they lose to prepare myself."

His motives began to become clearer to her as they stood there in silence for a moment. Seibu wasn't known for their defense. It was Kid's famous quick draw that allowed Seibu to become a powerhouse in scoring. Becoming faster was his answer to both scenarios. If he was faster than Kid, then they would have a chance of edging Seibu out, and if he was faster than Goau's blitz…she didn't want to think about what would happen if he wasn't.

The drizzle continued, and a misty fog began to form around the field. He kept throwing footballs effortlessly. The one thing he wasn't factoring into his scenarios was their defense. In true Hiruma fashion he was taking the problem head on by himself. She dropped the umbrella to her side and step to him. Wrapping her hands tightly around him, she pressed her face into his back, and closed her eyes to the rain. He dropped the football he had just prepared to throw.

"I told you, you don't have to take on everything by yourself anymore. They'll protect you. They'll stand up to Gaou," she said, hoping her meaning would get through to him.

He was silent as she held him, and then he covered her hands with his larger ones for the slightest second before prying them from his body and gently pushing her away. He picked the football back up and threw it, falling back into the routine he had begun. She wasn't going to be deterred so easily. He needed her, and she was going to be there for him whether he liked it or not. She ran out in front of him down towards the other end of the field.

"Throw me the ball," she called out, preparing herself to catch his pass. This time he truly did laugh at her as she tossed her wet bangs out of her face and took up a catching stance.

"You actually believe you can catch one of my passes," he jibed.

"What's the matter? Afraid that I can?" she retorted.

"I won't go easy on you, fucking manager."

"Who said you should?"

He threw the one of his Devil Laser Bullet passes just to spite her. She anticipated it even though she couldn't read his expression clearly through the foggy mist. The ball came barreling towards her at such a high rate of speed, that it knocked her backwards to the ground when she caught it.

He laughed as he watched her go down. "Get up, fucking manager. It wasn't even that hard a throw," but she didn't get up. She just laid there for a moment on her back, and then groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach.

"Quit fucking around, you're going to get yourself all muddy," He called to her, but she lay still on the ground.

"Fucking manager, I know you hear me. Get the fuck up!" He yelled, but she still didn't move.

"Fucking manager!"

"Anezaki!"

She heard his rushed footsteps slosh through the muddy field, and felt him slide down to the ground next to her as the rain began to pour heavily. She couldn't help but to burst into laughter when he rolled her over to face him. He, on the other hand, was not amused as he gazed at her stone faced.

"The look on your face right now is so worth it," she continued to laugh as she sat up and tried to wipe some of the mud off the side of her face that had been planted in the ground.

"You didn't have me fooled for even a second," he huffed as he looked away from her briefly.

"Admit it. I got you real good." She poked at him with the football, and he easily slapped it away.

"I admit nothing."

"Go on and admit it. I won't hold it over you," she giggled as she continued to poke at him with her finger.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, silencing her giggles with the ferocity of his lips. She matched his kiss with an intensity of her own as she pushed him backwards on to the wet muddy ground. From there it was a struggle. Both of them grappling for control, neither of them willing to acquiesce as they rolled around in the mud. Regaining her previous position of advantage, Mamori broke away from their kissing, and sat up to straddle him.

As she reached for the zipper on his pants, he sat up as well pulling her into another kiss, and pushing her hands away, but pulling off her coat. The rain was freezing, but she didn't care as she tugged at his scarf, and he hurried out of his jacket. Kneeling in front of each other, their kisses became deep and unforced, their tongues exploring the crevasses of each other's mouths. He moved to gently nibble on her breast, still pinned beneath the layers of wet clothes that clung to her like a second skin. One of his hands was already slowly creeping up her thigh and under her skirt, so she reached down to find the zipper of his pants again, and this time he made no move to stop her.

Her cold hand plunged into his pants, grabbing his warm hard shaft. He groaned, and moving aside the crotch of her panties, he pulled her on top of his lap. His hand gripped her thighs, but allowed her the freedom of her own movements. He matched her movements from his seated position as they clung together against the onslaught of drenching rain. The heat their bodies generated made them impervious to the cold, enveloping them in a warm cocoon.

Nothing else in the world mattered except for the two of them together, in the rain, on that field. Her whole body shuddered with ecstasy, and she felt him grip her even tighter as he gave himself over to rapturous bliss as well. They stayed locked together for the longest time, until he finally pulled himself away from her, looking at each other, both of them soaking wet, and covered in mud.

"What's your mother going to say when you come home like this?" he smirked.

"I don't want to go home," she said evenly as she looked into his eyes.

His brow furrowed as he frowned at her. "Why? Something wrong between you and your mother?"

"Of course not," she smiled. "My mother and I get along just fine."

"Then why?" He questioned her again, but she didn't want to answer him. She knew he wouldn't like the answer, but it was still the truth. Pulling him close to her again, she buried her face into his shoulder. His arms wrapped themselves around her as he chuckled, surprised by her reaction.

"Because you need me," she mumbled softly against his shoulder to herself, and then hoped his sensitive ears didn't pick up her words.


	2. Hiruma's Heart 'The Problem at Hand'

**Title:** Lesson 2: Hiruma's Heart (The Problem at Hand)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eyeshield 21

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori

The only time of day that ever bothered him was early morning. If he was up, then that meant he didn't get much sleep the night before. His eyes opened before the rest of his body awoke. He could tell by the faint strains of light ghosting into the room through the closed curtains that it was still too early to for any human being to be awake. His body came to life as it gradually shook off the sluggish confines of sleep, but his right arm was more stubborn than the rest of his limbs, refusing to give up its lazy position.

Hiruma looked over at the cause of the problem cradled into his right side. His arm rested beneath her sleeping form. He didn't remember reaching for her the night before, but the evidence was all over her, in the softness of her contented smile, and the blissful glow of her skin. He slowly extracted his arm from beneath her warm body, and instantly felt the angry rejection of the limb in the form of phantom needles. His right arm would have been content to die there underneath her weight.

He didn't ask her to stay that night, but she ended up staying anyway. Off and on, for several days, she had invaded his quiet life. It didn't seem unreasonable to him that she should clean up before going home, because they were both covered in mud. Then it only seemed logical for her to wait until her clothes were washed and dried before she left. Of course by the time that happened, it was already the wee hours of the morning, and she had fallen asleep nestled against his shoulder in one of his pajama tops that he never wore himself. But that didn't mean she had permission to stretch her one night sleep over into an extended event.

He grabbed the bottom half of his pajamas off the floor and slipped them on. Punishing his arm for its betrayal, he began doing one handed pushups near the foot of the bed. Moments later, the door eased open, and Cerberus jaunted leisurely into the room. The two of them exchanged a steely gaze, before Cerberus rounded the corner of the bed.

"Oh! Uh…good morning, Cerberus," Mamori's sleepy tone forced him to look up over the low edge of the bed to see Cerberus sitting smugly in her lap enjoying her attention.

"Get off my bed, fucking dog," he ground out between pushups.

"He's fine, and good morning to you, Youichi," her voice was a little too bright and cheery for his tastes, but he did like hearing the sound of his name on her lips.

"He's not fine," He huffed as he switched arms. "Yesterday morning when you weren't here, he took a nice big shit on my pillow."

"He's making that up, isn't he Cerberus?" she cooed. "You would never do such a thing, because you're such a good boy."

"I should have left it for you to clean up, but I do like sleeping in my own bed," he grunted, pushing himself to his limit and beyond in his irritation. "Alone," he added almost as an afterthought, but the silence told him that she understood his meaning. Sometimes her sweetness sickened him to the point where he could think of nothing better than to erase her from his mind.

Her foot came down on his rear in the middle of his push up making him lose his balance and collapse to the floor. "You need to keep your butt down if you're going to do these properly," she snickered and moved to go past him, but he snaked out an arm, grabbing her by the ankle, causing her to trip and fall flat on the ground. He wished he never taught her the fundamental basics of a push up.

"Who are you to coach someone on how to do the perfect push up?" He teased. She had rolled over on her back as he was sliding across her body, his hand traveling up her bare thigh underneath the lazily buttoned pajama top of his. An article of his clothing that she had by now claimed as her own.

"I thought you liked to sleep alone," she said as he pulled at one of the buttons with his teeth.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" he growled as he licked the soft skin between her breasts.

"We're going to be late for school," was her half hearted breathy protest. As he traveled further up her body, he felt her sharp shallow intake of breath. They had plenty of time, and her lips were close enough to touch. He barely brushed them and he could still feel them part with a silent sigh, inviting him to do more. Sometimes he felt guilty about the way he needed her, the way he used her. Or was she using him? Sometimes he truly didn't know who was marking who at times.

"Wear your own fucking clothes," he said dryly as their noses touched, and then snickered as he rose up from the floor, leaving her wanting as he walked over her out into the living area.

Her clothes had become another point of irritation to him. He found some of her underwear stuffed in the back of one of his drawers the day before. She had a uniform hanging in the back of his closet, and recently it had been joined by two other outfits. Then there was the easy comfort in which she made her way around his place. As he sat at the coffee table booting up his laptop, she went into the kitchen opening cabinets, clanging dishes, and the smell of coffee brewing was all too comfortable for him. It was like she belonged there, with his guns, with his ammunition, with his files, and surveillance equipment. Not to mention the fact that she was turning his hell hound into nothing more than a house pet.

"What the fuck is all this?" He saw the neatly laid out plans and horribly drawn formations on his coffee table.

"Research," she said. "I found some old college football playbooks, and I came up with some offensive strategies that should be effective against Hakushuu." He could tell that was what it was without her answering, but that really wasn't what he meant by the question.

The dark circles around her eyes, the fact that she dosed off in one of her classes the other day, her growing inattention at practices; the fruition of all the signs he had been ignoring the past few days was staring him right in the face. Clearly she wasn't getting much sleep recently, and she was spending most of her waking hours trying to find a solution to the Gaou problem. The strategies weren't bad when he looked them over, but they presented significant risks that he just couldn't afford to take.

He couldn't risk the entire team just to protect himself. If he went down, he could be replaced, the team could still play, and they would still have a chance. But if their entire line was destroyed, then they had no one to replace them. He would have to forfeit just like the Taiyou Sphinx did, and that was the scenario he was looking to completely avoid. Saving him was not going to be part of the deal. If he was going to be saved, it was going to be by using his evasive techniques, and his arm. He would save himself on his own.

"This is all bullshit," he cackled as he tossed her research on to the floor.

"Excuse me?" Her wide incredulous blue eyes held a slight spark of anger in them. Something he seldom saw anymore and sorely missed.

She hadn't fought with him for in a long while. Her unquestioned obedience and acceptance of his methods had made arguing with her virtually obsolete. He missed the battles they used to have, but he didn't mind the fact that she was always at the ready to clean up after one of his tirades. He didn't exactly enjoy making her feel like a fool, but he did enjoy the reaction he got when she clearly knew that she wasn't.

"You actually wasted your valuable time compiling this bullshit together. What a stupid fucking thing to do," he cackled louder, seeing her begin to seethe as she poured their coffee

"I thought I was helping," she bit out lowly.

"Not with that unintelligible bullshit. You can't even draw a fucking line formation correctly. All you need are x's, o's, and dots. That should have been easy enough for you to do, fucking manager." She had made it easier to mock her, by drawing caricatures of the players in her formations. The Gaou caricature was probably the most hilarious one.

"I thought it would be cute," she said. He could tell she was pouting now, but he didn't care as he perused the latest college and professional amefuto standings online.

"By drawing fucking stick figure people? Well, it's fucking horrible, and a complete waste of fucking time," he was done winding her up, and was now waiting patiently for the explosion.

"I think you've already made that clear," she said as she sat his mug of coffee down in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow over the laptop at her. So this was her controlled blast. He picked up the mug and brought it to his lips. Watching the ever so slight wicked smirk in the corner of her mouth, he sniffed the concoction before sitting it back down, and pushing it to the side.

"Nice try," he snickered. Sometimes she truly did amaze him, especially when he saw a little of himself rubbing off on her.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was as innocent as the look in her eyes. What she didn't know was that while she thought he wasn't paying much attention to her making his coffee, he had seen her pour an insane amount of sugar into both mugs.

"You're not devious enough," he said as he went back to his laptop.

"I can be devious if I want to. What about Deimon Field Day?" she pressed.

"You were acting. There's a difference, and it was for the good of the team," he deduced. Although, that had been one of the best days he had ever had. Seeing her laugh maniacally was priceless, simply because every time someone offered money to see the footage, he turned them down cold.

"I even helped you set those traps," she said, trying to hold on to any little detail that would convince him that she wasn't the perfect fucking angel he knew so well.

"I can smell the fucking sugar from a mile away, okay," he pointed out, deflating her argument at the same time. "Plus the look on your face gave you away the instant I pick up the mug."

"I'm that transparent?" her shoulders slumped as she sipped her coffee. Sometimes he wished she wouldn't give up so easily. But did he really want her to aspire to his level?

He sighed irritably. "You should have just put a teaspoon of sugar in the bottom of the mug before pouring the coffee. That way, I would still drink it while thinking something tasted different with your extraordinarily awful fucking coffee, before getting to the bottom of the mug, and finding the sugar surprise."

"Thanks for the pointers," she smirked as she continued to sip her coffee.

"Anytime," he winked back at her.

He knew her motives better than she did. Things were constantly evolving between them. He had to admit that at first their secret affair gave him a dangerous sort of rush. The kind of rush he thought he could only feel on the football field after a hard win. As things had progressed, he deliberately let her peel away certain layers of his psyche. It was nice to have her close, and still at a comfortable distance. A distance he maintained. A distance she was discovering new ways to encroach upon all on her own. He did not want to need her, but when she was gone he certainly did crave her.

"You can't move in here," he said abruptly as he shut down his laptop and stood up.

"Who said I was moving in?" She looked up at him with those shining innocent blue eyes that had become so fascinating to him. Unlike him, she had the ability to lure him, and bare her soul to him with just one look.

"I said you can't move in," he reiterated himself. His mouth curling into a sneer, making it clear that it wasn't a question, merely a fact that he knew all about her tactics.

"I'm not moving in," she shrugged as he turned to head back towards the bedroom.

"Good, then we are agreed," he called out to her as his disappeared from her sight.

"I didn't know that we disagreed," she called back to him.

"I'm jumping into the shower now. Don't keep me fucking waiting," he said loudly and could just imagine the rueful twist on her mouth. As much as he craved her, he knew she had become obsessed with him.


	3. Heartburn 'What Words Don't Say'

**Title:** Lesson 3: Heartburn (What Words Don't Say)

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori, Yukimitsu, (the rest of the team is there in the background) XD

**Disclaimer:** Thank GAWD that Riichiro Inagaki, Yusuke Murata, and Shueisha own ES21 because I wouldn't know what to do with it if I did! XD

Part of her was surprised with how much she actually cared. It was the depth of the feeling that shocked her the most. Their relationship had become a lesson in subtlety. Slight references compounded with immeasurable meaning. The last word was something that was always sought between the two of them. The last word meant that person won, and winning had begun to consume them, not only on the field, but also within the small confines of their very private life.

Then, there was the matter of what she said to him in the shower that morning. She could feel his muscles tighten under his slick wet skin. The reaction made her immediately regret the words, and she wished she could take them back as they hung in the air. She waited for him to say something, to have any kind of response. He didn't, and the words stayed there like an unexploded hand grenade around their feet.

Part of her wanted to just give up. The tension filled, angry knots in her stomach were not worth the trouble, she told herself. She could also feel the walls going back up, and him systematically shutting her out of what little part of him he allowed her access to. Then again, it just wasn't her style to just give up. Especially when she knew she was right, and he just wasn't listening. So she decided to do the only thing she could do in this situation, and that was to make him listen. Even if it meant pushing him further away.

She hated the fact that she needed to use Yukimitsu in such a way, but she had no other choice. She was desperate for lead in, and knowing Hiruma the way she did, he would have laughed her off as being mentally challenged if she chose anyone else. She could have used Musashi, but she also knew instinctively that the kicker would see it coming from a mile away, and would never dance to her tune. So in the middle of the crowded clubroom after practice, Mamori decided to make her move.

"Yukimitsu-kun, you know how to read line formations and strategies, right?" She said with an easy smile as she slid next to Yukimitsu who had been sitting at the table engaged in conversation with Kurita. "What do you think of this research?"

The room that had been bustling with the noisy after practice chaos, all of the sudden became so quiet that only the furious clicking of the keys on a computer could be heard.

"It looks like you've put a lot of work into this, Anezaki-san," Yukimitsu said as he looked though the papers. Everyone remained quiet and utterly still as the clicking of keys slowed to a stop and the blond began to finger his automatic rifle.

"Thank you, Yukimitsu-kun. At least someone can appreciate the work I do," Mamori shot a glare into the demon's general direction, and only catch a flash of jade green eyes over a laptop screen.

"What he's trying to say, fucking manager, is that you wasted your time. That's fucking funny. I could have sworn I told you the exact same thing," he said as he focused back on his laptop, but the edge to his voice was unmistakable. The spectators in the room collectively took a sharp inhale.

"That's not what I was trying to say," Yukimitsu looked between the two of them.

"Well, I know that Yukimitsu-kun at least took a look at the work that I did," she shot back as she moved to grab her mop from where it rested in the corner. It was a lie. She knew that he only needed to glance at something in order to comprehend it, but she needed the quick comeback.

Hiruma popped a fresh piece of gum in his mouth as he chuckled, "The fucking baldy only said that because he has a crush on you." He set his laptop aside as he picked up the rifle.

"That's not true!" Yukimitsu squeaked.

Hiruma jumped on top of his chair, his mouth stretched into a maniacal toothy grin as he pointed the rifle at Yukimitsu, "Are you calling me a liar, fucking baldy?"

At that point, there was a mass exodus to the door by the rest of the team who didn't want to be on hand for what they believed would happen next. Mamori seeing how visible shaken the poor Yukimitsu was, angled her broom over the barrel of Hiruma's rifle.

"Don't you dare point that thing at him!" She yelled, and Yukimitsu took the opportunity to bolt out the door as Hiruma let his aim settle on her.

Stepping down from the chair, he sauntered over towards her. The rifle aimed in direct competition with her broom. For a moment she wondered if she had taken the best course of action. Was it wise to unleash the predatory beast that lurked inside the quarterback?

"You certainly know how to clear a room, fucking manager," he growled lowly, the barrel of his rifle aimed directly at her chest.

"I was only trying to…" She heard the sound of the broom dropping to the floor before she had even realized what was happening.

With the nimble movements of a jungle cat, he had lowered his gun, slapped the broom out of her hand, and pushed her up against the slot machines. His mouth hungrily devoured hers as he lifted her thighs, only to grind her back harder against the already jostled machine spilling out its change.

"Jackpot," he hissed. His breath hot on her face as the machine buzzed with noise and excitement. She searched his face for something deeper, and when she found nothing, the moment was lost on her.

"Is that all I am to you?" Her voice was devoid of hurt or anger, and as much as she wanted to poison her words with emotion, she just couldn't do it. Not when he was so close to her, not like this.

He had been trailing ravenous kisses down her jaw line when he stopped abruptly and lifted his head to give her a slightly puzzled look. Then he grabbed the gun he had set next to the slot machine and turned around.

"You also know how to kill a mood," he tossed over his shoulder and he crossed back over to his chair and propped his feet on the table.

"Am I not supposed to care?" She asked as she backed away from the already forgotten slot machine and straightened her disheveled appearance.

"Of course you can care." He laughed. His laughed always managed to make her feel foolish.

"As your girlfriend?" She pressed. Believing that he just wasn't getting her meaning, but the look in those feral green eyes told a different story from the snide grin on his lips.

"I meant that," was all he said, and it would have immediately disarmed her, had she not had more pressing questions and doubts.

"Then what about on the field?"

"There's no place for girlfriends on the field. We're not the fucking Cupids," his cackle taunting.

"And you know that's not what I meant…"

"It's football. People get hurt all the time, fucking manager, what do you expect?"

As much as she hated to admit it he was right, as usual. But she couldn't shake those ominous feelings that something was about to go dreadfully wrong. Not just for the team, but for her as well.

"Then tell me the odds," she said. "Tell me the one thing you believe to be true." She stood there, in a silent battle of the eyes, the fiercest jade against the warmest blue. Maybe he hoped she would back down, drop the entire matter and let things go. She couldn't, not when she felt that her very heart depended on it.

"It's not about the odds, not that you would fucking understand anyway. That fucking kid still can't say the words," he huffed.

"Sounds familiar." She leaned against the table with her arms folded, throwing him a knowing glance.

"There's a difference between needing to say them and wanting to say them. You need to say them and I don't fucking want to," he manage to be cold and endearing at the same time. She should have been angry, but she couldn't help but feel defeated.

"Fine. Then I just won't bother you about it anymore," she said softly as she looked at the floor. Her concession only to be met with more derisive laughter.

"That's fucking perfect! And don't bother coming over tonight. I've got a lot of shit to do, and no time to entertain you."

"If that's how you want things, then fine!" She stood up from the table and stormed over to the door, but stopped as she reached for the handle. He always managed to make her feel as though she was the one with something to prove. Hadn't she proved enough already? "My cellphone," she said as she turned around to face him. "I forgot it this morning…"

Out of nowhere, her cellphone came hurdling towards her. His reflexes were so quick that she hadn't even seen where he had retrieved it from. "Now you don't have an excuse," was all he said before turning his attention back to the laptop he had set aside so long ago.

She stood there by the door. Having been brushed off for what seemed like the millionth time. Was she not worthy of his most intimate thoughts? Had she not been there by his side this entire time? Why now, during what would be the most decisive battle of their journey, was he preparing to shut her out? The anger that she had been holding at bay began to bubble and churn in the pit of her stomach. She deserved better, she knew that, but all she wanted was him.

She squeezed her phone like a stress ball in the palm of her hand. "You are the most horrible, despicable, insufferably rude, bully!..."

"Don't stop! Keep going!" The laughter took him over to the point where it looked as though tears were coming out of his eyes.

The only thing she could do in response was scream in frustrated rage as she opened the door and stormed out. Not even hearing the resounding thud the clubroom door made as it slammed shut behind her gave her the satisfaction that she desperately needed, because she could still hear his laughter in her ears as she reached the school gates.


	4. Heartstrings 'Where The Devil'

**Title: **Lesson 4: Heartstrings (Where The Devil Are My Slippers)

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori, Musashi (Suzuna and Cerberus make appearences)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eyeshield 21.

When his head hit the pillow that night, he felt a moment of complete bliss. There was no one sleeping next to him; no one hording his covers, tucking their cold feet underneath his legs, and especially no one lying on his arm. He yawned and stretched as he reclaimed the center of his bed. It had been a pretty uneventful day as far as he was concerned. Practice just wasn't providing the usual excitement since the brats had become used to torture and pain. Then there was the manager, and her ridiculous posturing about her Hakushuu strategies. When did her mothering switch from the fucking shrimp to him?

It was then that he glanced over at his alarm clock and registered the time. It was 11 o'clock at night. She hadn't called, and that was strange. It was not as if he had told her to call. In fact, he had told her on several occasions not to call him every night before she fell asleep. As it turned out, on the nights that he didn't receive a call, she was in his bed. He sat up in bed and reached for his cellphone on the nightstand. When he looked at the glowing screen that showed there were no new calls, his moment of bliss seemed to evaporate.

The next day, he opened his locker at school to an unexpected surprise. For the past few months that they had been seeing each other, every day he opened his locker to find a neatly wrapped bento waiting for him. Today, it was conspicuously missing. Not that he cared; he had specifically asked her not to make him lunch. He had only given her his combination so she could drop off research _one_ time, and that was it. However, he did enjoy dropping her carefully carved pieces of fruit off the roof during lunch time. Headshots were worth extra points.

As he ate his instant ramen on the roof during lunch, he anticipated her taking the opportunity to disturb his solitude. When she didn't show, he leaned over the side of the building to see her sitting underneath a shaded tree with her friends. Not that he minded; he had frequently told her not to bother him during lunch time. Then again, she had always managed to find some excuse to nag him about something which would lead her up to the roof. He was starting to see a pattern.

So at practice he decided to make things a little interesting, and brought out his hand held RBR-90 mm M79 "OSA" rocket launcher from his underground weapons silo. Despite receiving the general horrified looks from the fucking brats, and blowing up a section of the bleachers, the manager did not utter one word of protest to him during practice. Instead, she calmly took notes, and put out the small fires before the fire department arrived to take care of the bleachers. After practice, the only trace that remained of her being there was the practice notes she left on the table in the clubroom. Oh, she was good!

When he arrived home, he expected her to be tired of all the nonsense, and ready for things to get back to as close to normal as things could ever be between them. But 11 o'clock rolled around and still another night with no call from her. Did she expect him to call? She'd be waiting a long time if she was waiting for that. Even though he had 170 different cellphones, he was not going to use anyone of them to reward her effort. Instead he planned to do what he always did in these types of situations. Fight fire with a short range nuclear missile.

Of course the short range nuclear missile destroyed the rest of the bleachers, and practice had to be cut short because the monkey pissed himself. Still, there was not one comment from the manager. Not one glare, not a scream, not even a stomp of the foot. While the manager dutifully called the fire department, he stood alone in the center of the field watching the bleachers burn. It was a mesmerizing sight; rivaled only by the coolness of her sapphire blue eyes. As the sounds of the sirens got louder, Hiruma walked the short distance to the clubroom with distinct purpose of finding the manager there. However, for the second day in a row the only sight that awaited him was her carefully recorded notes on the practice. No cryptic notes in the margin about his methods, no horribly drawn depictions; just the plain and simple facts. Now things were personal.

Things were made even more personal when he arrived home to find another steaming pile of dog shit on his pillow. He angrily threw the pillow out the window, managing to make a lucky shot of hitting some poor hapless sap in the face without even trying. The grin on Cerberus' face, though, lead him to believe that the fucking dog was too unusually happy seeing some nameless person slapped in the face with his own shit, so Hiruma peeled back the covers of his bed to discover a large piss spot in the middle.

"Keep it up and I will mail you to her in pieces," he snarled at Cerberus as he dialed the hotel manager to have him bring up a new mattress and fresh bed sheets.

He should have burned those papers when he had the chance. It probably wouldn't have prevented anything, the manager could be very stubborn when she wanted to be, but the action would have made hindsight feel better. As he lied awake in his bed, watching the minutes tick away on his digital clock, he wondered when he had turned into an obsessive bitch. She was only a girl, probably PMSing, and he was absolutely sure he didn't want anything to do with that. But the thing he had grown accustomed to, hearing her voice every night before he fell asleep, was weighing on his mind. It was midnight before he decided to dial her phone number.

"Hello?" The sleepy voice on the other end was barely distinguishable as hers.

"Put some clothes on and come over here now," he commanded.

"H-Hiruma?"

"Who the fuck else would it be?"

"Do you realize what time it is? I was sleeping," she didn't disguise the irritation in her voice, but the words came out a lot softer than he expected. Probably due to the fact that she was actually sleeping peacefully.

"And now you're up. So come over," he decided she wasn't allowed to sleep peacefully.

"What exactly do you want?"

"I want you to come over and help me with some research." Okay so it was a blatant lie, and she probably knew it was a lie, but he truly believed if he told her the real reason, he would lose the slight advantage he had.

"And you want me to get up and go out walking in the middle of the night by myself to come all the way over to your place to help with research? Are you cr…well I already know the answer to that, so I won't even ask." She was definitely irritable. The possibility of her arriving on his doorstep in that state made him all tingly with glee.

"You actually may have a point there, fucking manager," he conceded.

"What point?"

"I'll call Habishira and have him come over to pick you up. Be waiting outside."

"So you plan on waking another person up in the middle of the night all for the sake of research?"

"That fucking delinquent is probably out riding his…hello?" Did his phone just drop the call? He realized that the line went dead, so he immediately redialed her number. There was no possible way she could have hung up on him.

After six tries, she finally answered on the seventh yelling, "Go to sleep!" before hanging up on him for the second time that night. She was now on his shit list. Hanging up on him when he needed her help, who the fuck did she thing she was? Did her silly little PMS woman brain forget who he was? He'd remind her. Oh, how he would remind her! As he lay back down on his bed, fatigue finally began to get the better of him, and he realized that he had grown accustomed to more than just hearing her voice before he went to sleep each night.

The next day, before the Seibu/Hakushuu game, he decided to stop by Kariya's. As he left the bakery with a small package, he came face to face with his Mohawk wearing kicker.

"…The fuck are you doing here?" Hiruma eyed Musashi cautiously as the kicker dug his finger in his ear.

"I could ask you the same thing," Musashi chuckled, acknowledging the package in the quarterback's hands.

"I'll fucking kill you if you say a word to anyone," he spat out menacingly just for show. He knew the fucking old man was never one to gossip.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about," Musashi said as his eyes darted over to across the street. Hiruma turned to look to see the cheerleader, standing on the edge of the sidewalk with her mouth hanging open.

"Tch, I've already got blackmail on her."


	5. Heartache 'A Cream Puff is a Cream Puff'

**Title:** Lesson 5: Heartache (A Cream Puff is a Cream Puff)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eyeshield 21

It didn't surprise her that he showed up at her front door with the Devil Bat truck, ready to go to the game. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning expecting him to show up at her house at 2 o'clock in the morning after the way she had hung up on him. Guilt was the farthest thing from her mind, because she felt clearly justified in her actions. Although, when the blond haired quarterback opened the door for her and offered a hand to help her into the truck's cab, a sense of foreboding gripped the team manager's insides.

Mamori saw the box from Kariya's sitting on the seat, but it didn't immediately occur to her that they were for her. The smell of freshly baked pastry wafted up to torture her nostrils even as she sat primly on her side of the cab, with her hands neatly folded into her lap, waiting as Hiruma got in on the other side. He entered the cab of the truck without a word, and in a silent graceful motion he handed her the coveted box, and smiled. After politely accepting the box of pastries from him, she opened it with a wary eye.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Ouch. That hurt, fucking manager. You have seriously wounded me," he threw her a look of feigned agony. "To think that you would believe that I would give you tainted cream puffs." As the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, she could tell he was holding back one of his depraved grins.

The Devil Bat roared to life, and he began to guide them into traffic. She sat as close to the passenger door as she possibly could in the large cab. Even though she told herself she was still very upset with him, being in such close proximity to him unnerved her as much as his behavior intrigued her. Still something didn't sit well with her. There had to be an angle. There had to be some other motive to his kindness that was much more sinister. Being the one who knew him best, or so she thought, she waited for the anvil to fall even though her heart hoped differently.

"Uh huh, then why just these?" She gestured toward the box of cream puffs now sitting in her lap

"What? Two not enough? Just how many fucking cream puffs do you scarf down on a daily basis?"

"I don't eat cream puffs _every_ day, and you know that's not the point!" She said through gritted teeth as she shot him an annoyed glance.

Resigning herself to the fact that he would never understand, nor care, she looked out her window. The silence between them never bothered him as much as it did her. She knew he preferred it that way; for her to dutifully be at his side, silent, making sure his every order was carried out. In the beginning, it was just a role she played so she could watch over Sena. Now, she felt the obsessive need to watch over him. The continued silence between them as the buildings passed by her window was growing increasingly harder for her to bear, so she let out a heavy sigh hoping to get his attention.

She realized her attempt failed after waiting patiently for a response. If she wanted him, she was stuck with exactly what she got, but it wasn't as though she wanted to change him. What would be like if she were a different person? Could she ever be satisfied with just empty gestures and hollow words, hoping that someday a meaning would be behind it all? It was a sad thing to admit, but she actually lived for their fights. It was in those moments that she felt that his passion for winning, and maybe his passion for her, rivaled what he felt on the football field. She decided that she couldn't give in, or give up.

"Do you believe that it's enough?" She said quietly, holding her breath in the short silence pause while she awaited his answer.

"No, but I believe it's a start." The unassuming tone of his voice caused her to look over at him, and smile. He was giving in to her.

It was a simple minor concession that filled her with such a jubilant feeling that she had to mentally restrain herself from leaping across the cab, and throwing her arms around his neck. Even though some lingering doubts remained, they were pushed aside by the lofty ideas that filled her head as it dawned on her that she now had the power. She was now in control.

She was satisfied with the silence now as she dropped their conversation to concentrate on the golden flaky pastry in front of her. Involuntarily, soft moans of epicurean ecstasy escaped from her mouth. She had already devoured one of the cream puffs and was half way through the other when she caught him staring at her as they were stopped at a light.

"What?" She asked innocently, pretending not to know why he was gazing at her with a serpentine grin.

"Nothing," his grin grew wider, and he shook his head as they pulled into the stadium parking lot.

"I'm not using it as a substitute."

"It'd be a fucking sad substitute if you were."

"Well, if this is the start, then I'm waiting for the finish," she tossed back at him and was met with an evil laugh that had her wondering just what would his finish be.

The way they chose to hide their relationship from prying eyes had become automatic and clinical. Once they exited the truck, she trailed behind him at just the right distance so no one would suspect that they had arrived together. At one time, she believed it was for the good of the team, but now the secrecy was weighing on her. She didn't want to become like one of the Cupids' girlfriends, or like Harao's fangirls, but she wanted some kind of acknowledgement. Not that she was the manager of the Devil bats, but that she and Hiruma were a team.

She sat behind him in the bleachers; her eyes half on him and half on the game. There Hiruma was, in the middle of his boys, watching someone he admired challenge a beast. While the rest of the team watched in amazement, Hiruma was quiet and reserved. She thought that it was pride she saw in his face, watching his team observe a match where someone who's brain he appreciated was paying homage to him by using a style of play very much like his own. Then it occurred to her, as she observed Kid on the field, ready to live or die with each play, choosing to attack over again to combat Gaou's explosive force. It wasn't pride in seeing his tactics displayed that she saw on Hiruma's face at all.

It was as if he had offered the Wild Gunmen up for sacrifice, and he was taking pleasure in it. It was the dark, evil side of Hiruma. The face he showed to everyone, to the world, but she still felt the pang in her heart every time she saw Kid's quickdraw release right before Gaou made it to him. Mamori clenched her fists tightly as she watched Gaou become faster with every attempt. Kid just had to win. He had to prove that an offense built on tactics, technique and talent could overcome even the strongest defensive power.

"Mamo-nee, what's wrong?" Suzuna was sitting next to her with a concerned face. Mamori looked down at her hands; the knuckles had become white from gripping the hem of her skirt so tightly.

"It's nothing, Suzuna," she turned to give the girl a reassuring smile just an instant too soon. The horrified sound from the crowd almost made her not want to turn and look, but she forced herself to anyway. She forced herself to look and process the image of Kid, broken and bleeding on the ground. He was only a second too late and this was the result.

The team watched as Tetsuma was taken down, and Riku was run into the ground. It was a grueling, bloody battle that made her stomach churn and her heart ache. The Wild Gunmen were thrashed, and Hiruma was the only one who seemed as though he wasn't surprised by the outcome. She realized that in all the plans she had researched, not one of them could neutralize Gaou. The Sphinx couldn't stop him, and the Wild Gunmen didn't even try to, so how in the world were they going to overcome this? More importantly, how was she going to be able to just sit by on the sidelines and watch?

It was Hiruma's confidently cool declaration that gave her the hope that she needed. He had faith in Kurita's potential even if Kurita didn't know it himself. Just what was going on in the mind of their blond fearless leader, she had no idea. There was one thing, however, that she was certain of. Those lofty ideas of what she could do with the control she had gained had no chance of ever becoming realized. He was the Deimon Control Tower, the Commander from Hell, and she was just the manager.


	6. Sena's Heart 'Covert Operations'

**Title:** Lesson 6: Sena's Heart (Covert Operations)

**Characters:** Hiruma/Mamori, Sena, Suzuna, The Devilbats, A few others

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eyeshield 21.

There was something to be said about the way he viewed his role on the team. He didn't see himself as the ace, even though people batted that title around, he wasn't comfortable accepting such an auspicious moniker. He considered himself a mediator, a go-between. He was the one who kept the precarious peace between the two people he feared most; his overprotective childhood friend, and the one who pulled him out of obscurity to place him on the path to greatness.

Even though they hadn't been fighting on a regular basis anymore, the tension was still there between the quarterback and the team manager. The running back was used to it though, and tried his best most of the time to defuse any tense situations that might lead to an all out war. At other times, if he was close to an exit, he chose the escape route. So when he fell out of the truck in the parking lot at the Tokyo Dome, his first thought wasn't about where he was at all.

"Sena! Are you hurt?" Mamori jumped out of the truck's cab and rushed over to his side with Suzuna following closely at her heels.

"I'm alright Mamori-neechan," he said as he stood up from the ground with the rest of the group and dusted himself off quickly to avoid the team manager's worried checking for bruises and scrapes.

"I think I might have bruised my tail bone, Mamori-neechan," Monta said as he got up from the ground rubbing his sore rear end, his face giving off a pained look as if he had been shot.

"Oh! Where does it hurt," Mamori moved over to where the receiver stood and began to rub his backside. "Does it hurt here, or here?"

Monta's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he smiled blissfully. He didn't see the blond haired devil walking over to the group with his MK14 automatic rifle locked and loaded, and his fangs barred.

"Monta, let me take a look at that," Musashi said as he pulled Monta by his collar away from the manager.

"Wait! Wha…Oh," Monta opened his eyes, saw the wicked look on their captain's face, and decided to quit while he was ahead. "I'm alright now. Perfectly fine. No need to worry Mamori-neechan."

"Hiruma-kun, you should be more careful when driving," Mamori scolded, but Hiruma laughed it off as he confronted the rest of the team.

"They just took a little tumble. Everybody's fine, right?" He cocked an eyebrow while the team took a collective gulp and answered in the affirmative. "See? Stop being so fucking paranoid, fucking manager."

They had no idea why they were there that night, but they all knew that this was their goal. There was only one team left that stood in their way. If they wanted to get here, they would have to get past the Dinosaurs. After what Sena had seen today, it seemed to be an impossible task, but as he witnessed Hiruma bribe the guards to get in, vandalize the place looking for uniforms, and the arrival of more players, he knew their captain had a plan in mind.

Mamori seemed a little cheerless as she went around sweeping up after everyone, making sure everything was left as they found it. Even though she participated in the friendly game between rivals, she seemed preoccupied by other thoughts. So much so, that the running back ace began to worry a bit about his over-protective friend. When Sena slid into third base without so much as a "be careful" from Mamori, he knew something was wrong. When he heard the loud gasp, and saw the wide eyed look she gave when Hiruma was about to be plowed over by Banba running for home, he knew what the something was.

As Kurita began his tale of the past, and how he, Hiruma and Musashi had met, Sena observed a very quiet Mamori go off to the tunnel area. Had she heard this story of the Devilbats' meager beginnings before? He couldn't really figure it out. The manager seemed more detached than she seemed uninterested. He thought about following her over to the tunnel area, but decided he wanted to hear Kurita's story of how the three of them came to love football, and how the dream of the Christmas Bowl was born.

When the game started back up, Sena noticed that Mamori wasn't back, so he decided to take a time out to go check on his friend. Evidently something was wrong, and he wanted to help as best as he could, if he could. As he got closer to the tunnel, and further away from the field where the game was back into full swing, he thought he heard voices. What was so bad that had Mamori talking to herself? Sena decided to be cautious, and not just intrude on whatever conversation she was having so he stood back next to a trashcan right by the entrance to the tunnel. That would give him the perfect vantage point to scope things out before rushing in to help, or figure out what was wrong with his friend.

"Whatcha doin'?" Suzuna came out of nowhere, and nearly made him jump into the trash can.

"Shhh! I think something's wrong with Mamori," he said with a whisper once he had calmed his nerves down from being scared senseless by the cheerleader on wheels.

"Well, whatever it is, she's talking it over with Hiruma."

"Hiruma? But he was just on the field?"

"Yea, he snuck off over here just when he thought no one was looking. Of course I'm always looking," she said with a sly smile. "I just can't get close enough to hear what they are saying."

Sena carefully leaned around the corner, and sure enough the team manager and the quarterback were engrossed in a close conversation. Mamori was leaning up against the wall, looking down at the ground. Occasionally she would look up at Hiruma, who was hovering in front of her with his hand against the wall keeping him propped up. Sena noted that the cushion of space between the two was not something normal or friendly. It was close, compact and collapsible. An inch or two forward, and their faces could be touching. He had long suspected something going on between the two, but chose to ignore it. More for his own peace of mind, than any fear of what the devil quarterback would do to him. Seeing evidence of their closeness was something he would rather not have stumbled on.

"Can you make out anything they're saying?" Suzuna was close to him as well. He could feel her breath against his ear, and it made his heart race even more than it already was. The idea that they were spying on something they really shouldn't have been crossed his mind.

"No, I can't really hear anything," but whatever the conversation was, it wasn't good. Mamori's body language suggested that she was upset over something, and it wasn't just the normal run of the mill Hiruma pranks that were bothering her.

He saw her shake her head "no" as if in staunch disagreement with the man standing in front of her. She looked away from him; everywhere and anywhere but right at the devil standing before her. Then the devil did something unexpected. With one slender long finger, he tilted her chin up towards him. It was obvious they were about to kiss. Sena watched transfixed as the lips of two of the most terrifying people he knew moved closer to one another. Part of him wanted to move, and look away. It wasn't a moment he felt he had the right to intrude on. And yet still he remained frozen in place unable to look away.

Suzuna gasped next to him while about to witness the same intimate act, and her sudden reaction startled the running back in such a way that he bumped into the trashcan. The noise was just enough to alert the couple down in the tunnel, and as they looked toward the sudden sound, Sena and Suzuna drew back against the entrance wall so as not to be discovered.

"Subtle move, ace," Suzuna chided in harsh whisper as she and Sena clung closely to the wall.

"What was with that gasp? You don't think they heard that?" Sena countered, and he saw the shock on Suzuna's face that he would even go as far to accuse her of anything. Immediately he felt the urge to apologize, but quickened footsteps coming from inside the tunnel made both of them crouch down into the shadows further.

Mamori shot out of the tunnel first, running towards the field as if someone had been hurt, and she was coming to the rescue. It wasn't clear if she had heard them really or not, but at least she had no idea they were there, and had been watching for as long as they had. Sena breathed a sigh of relief, and after a long moment went to stand up. It was then that he heard the slow ominous footsteps coming from inside the tunnel. Suzuna put her hand on Sena's shoulder, and wordlessly urged him to squat back down into the shadows with her. They weren't out of the woods yet. The devil was on the prowl.

Hiruma appeared at the entrance of the tunnel, and stood there for a moment looking towards the field. Both Sena and Suzuna held on to their breath as they waited for the quarterback to make a move. It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like minutes passed as Hiruma stood there, and then just as casually he had emerged from the tunnel, he walked towards the field. The two spies let out their long held breath, both satisfied and relieved that they had not been caught. Then Suzuna took the opportunity to punch Sena in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Was all he could barely get out as he rubbed the sore spot, and looked at her incredulously.

"Next time we go investigating, I take the lead," was all the cheerleader said as she skated away.


	7. Heartfelt 'Closer to All Apologies'

**Title: **Lesson 7: Heartfelt (Closer To All Apologies)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eyeshield 21.

He sat in the dark with his feet propped up on the table. The player's pieces were all arranged, and he ran about 100 different scenarios. Actually it was 116, but he wasn't counting, because the outcome was always the same. Regardless of what he tried, there was no way he could avoid it. Everything depended on Kurita's strength, and that was a variable he had no control over. All he could do was believe that the training with Banba would work, and awaken something in Kurita that lay dormant. Believing in others and having faith was something foreign to Hiruma. He had been let down too many times to fall for that trap. He looked at the raw data, and analyzed the plays. Facts were the only thing that mattered to him, and the fact was that the Dinosaurs were going to send their perfect beast to break him.

Suddenly the door flew open and there she was; standing there in silhouette against the light of day from outside. She stood there for a moment, and he mentally traced her curvy outline. She had a power over him that she wasn't even aware of, because he had kept it closely hidden to himself. Her power made him weak. It made him want to curl up into a ball next to her, and just live there feeling her soft warmth surrounding him. He remembered her holding him like that one night, and how he felt like he could stay like that forever. Her delicate arms wrapped around him, her chin resting on the top of his head, while his face was nestled against her bare breasts. He made sure that she never held him like that again. She was a dangerous vice, and he couldn't get rid of her, all he could do was control her and him to the best of his ability.

"What are you doing in here with the light off?" She asked as she came into the room, and reached for the switch.

"Shut the fucking door and don't turn on the light!" He growled in response, and she quietly obeyed. He heard the click of the lock once the door was shut. She knew his mood without him even telling her.

There was a faint whisper of light coming through the closed blinds. She was still silhouetted in the dark, and yet he could now see the features on her face. His eyes being adjusted from the length of time he had been sitting there, let her face come in clear detail to him. She was surprised and concerned. Probably not surprised he was sitting solitude like this. He had frequently sat alone, usually with a laptop or a gun, but he always liked to be alone with his thoughts. It also probably wasn't because he had raised his voice. Yelling at her had always been a special past time for him. Something that got his blood flowing, his energy up, and his senses flared. It was a pleasure he rarely allowed himself anymore, because he felt inside that his feelings where changing for her. This was no longer casual and fun. She had got in too deep, and so had he. Now they were both in danger of drowning.

"You know you don't…"

"Turn on the radio," he cut her off quickly as he easily took his legs off the table, and sat properly in the chair. He watched her throat move as she swallowed the rest of her words. How tender and elegant her features were. It was a characteristic that made him want to destroy and revere her.

She crossed over to the counter where the small radio sat, and flipped the switch. A cackle of noise filled the air, and she pressed the button to tune it to something else. The radio dial bounced from talking to bubble gum pop a couple of times. She knew what he wanted to hear, but when she landed on the Nirvana song, something clicked inside him. He owed her an apology. A proper one; one that would make certain that all of this tension and concern would be put to rest between him, and he could do what he needed to do with her by his side.

"Leave it there," he said and she backed away from the radio into the spot where she originally stood.

"Come here."

"Alright," she slowly began to come towards him. He held up is hand to stop her from coming any closer than several feet in front of him.

"Stop right there."

"Okay," she stood there with her hands to her sides, looking at him curiously. He could see her mind working, wondering what he had planned, what he wanted with her, what he wanted to do to her.

"Strip."

"Strip?"

"You heard me. Now strip."

She slowly began unbuttoning the cardigan she was wearing as she stood there like stone complying with his unusual request.

"No, I don't mean like that," he said irritated as he leaned forward in his chair disappointed in her performance.

"Like what then?" He could see her wide eyed questioning face clearly. It was an act on her part. She wanted him to ask for it, and that was one of the things he loved about her. How she could feign innocence and humility, all the while driving him to do the certain things she wanted.

"Move, with the music," he said while cracking the first faintest smile he had given her since she walked in.

"Alright," she began to move slowly as she listened to the song.

He watched her close her eyes, and move her hands with a slow deftness. She removed the cardigan and it fell to the floor. Her hips swayed as she turned around and began unbuttoning her thin blouse. She let the open blouse slip below her shoulders as her hands caressed the top part of her breasts, and then moved down to her smooth abdomen. The blouse fell to the floor beside the cardigan. She stepped out of her flats, and kicked everything collectively out of the way. The music swelled; she ran her fingers messily through her cropped hair, shaking her head, and twirling her hips along with the beat. He sat there and watched in a nonchalant pose sitting in his chair with his legs crossed, and his chin resting on his propped up fist.

She backed up against the lockers and slowly slid down to the floor. Rolling around and writhing to the drumming rhythm, and then sitting up on her knees. She lifted up her skirt, flashed him a peek of her lacy panties, and then smiled seductively as she began to stand up again from the floor. Her smile made him sit up a bit. She believed she was in control of this, and that this was all her doing. He couldn't let her have that. Not one inch of power or control, because she had already taken too much from him. He needed his edge, and she was slowly dulling it to the point that he felt he would become irrelevant. To the point where he would need her to just simply exist. To the point where his identity would rely on how she felt about him.

"I want it all off," he grumbled. Her back was towards him now as she continued to move with the music.

"Okay," she tossed slyly over her shoulder with the same seductive smirk she had given him before. He wanted to forcibly wipe that smirk off her pretty little face.

"Everything. Every last piece of clothing." His words were deliberate and biting. She turned around to face him. The smile replaced by a confused slight scowl.

"Alright," she said with a little insecurity. He arched his eyebrow in a way that dared her to question him as he saw her open her mouth to say something more. Her mouth quickly closed shut, and she continued to move with the music, removing clothes, beginning with her skirt.

Her bra and panties followed, and along with her skirt, she kicked them out of the way as she had done with her clothes before. As she stood there naked before him, her moves to the music were just as strong as before, but tempered with a bit more cautious humility. This wasn't a feigned emotion from her, and he reveled in it. His smile grew broader as he leaned forward to watch the show. This was the Mamori he loved to see. Stripped down and bare, back to the person she was before he had tainted her, and slightly embarrassed by the fact that she was enjoying the way he was tainting her now. Her hands moved along her body slowly and unsure. It was as if she didn't know herself, and was afraid to discover what the consequences would be in taking that leap.

He watched slowly as it began to happen. Very subtly at first as she began to touch her breasts. He watched as her nipples hardened, and she became acutely aroused. She closed her eyes again, and began to feel herself more. She was forgetting where she was, who she was with, and showing him a part of her that he had never seen. She was becoming comfortable with her body in front of him. Not at all like the tease who liked to walk around his apartment in his shirts. She was standing there bare naked, and perfect with the faint slivers of sunlight coming from the closed blinds glistening on her skin. Her hands moved tenderly, and lovingly along her own soft skin. Was she touching herself, and imagining the way she wanted to feel his hands on her? It wasn't much of a guess to make as she slowly moved her hand to the spot where he knew she wanted to feel him most.

"Come," he said as the music changed. It couldn't have been better if he was deejaying the radio station himself. Nine Inch Nails began playing.

"What?" She asked doe-eyed and a little breathy as if she had come out of a trance.

He didn't even need to speak the words this time. He simply extended his hand towards her and she came to him as if pulled by an invisible string. He stood there before her; towering over her naked body for a moment, and taking in her beauty. With a sudden swipe, he knocked all the player pieces off the table, and onto the floor. Never taking his eyes off her, he watched her flinch at the sudden action, and it made him sneer with delight. Then, with the gentle care of an admiring hand, he laid her across the table. Positioning himself between her legs that hung over the edge, he let his hand slowly graze her inner thighs. His lips soon followed, teasing as they moved along, and while one hand smoothed along the flat plain of her abdomen, the other cradled her hip.

He reached his target with the precision and accuracy of an expert quarterback. Her body arched and moved before him, but he retrained her deliberately by clamping both of his large hands around her thighs. As his tongue plunged further into her tangy sweetness, he could hear her moan, and feel her pant. She tried to sit up, tried to reach for him, but he had pulled her hips just partly off the table into a precarious position. All she could do was lie there, and grip the edges of the table on either side of her, because he had her in such a way that if she moved too much, the whole table would come crashing down. He was in complete control of everything, and all her pleasure was exclusively for his benefit.

Just when he felt that she was to the point where she could no longer contain herself, he stood up and unzipped his pants just enough to be able to maneuver. He held himself against her and slowly rubbed, tapped, and teased some more as she wiggled and moaned. It was sweet and torturous for her. He could hear her softly beg him with faint pleases, and breathe out his given name. She was at his mercy, and it was more than empowering for him to know that he held her release in his hands.

As he entered her he heard her sharp gasp, followed by her pleasured groans as he moved ever so slowly inside her. He grabbed the luscious mounds that softly bounced before him, feeling her quake and quiver beneath him. He caressed her as her arms seemed to lay limp at her sides. He felt her eyes on him watching as he examined every inch of her while moving at a slow and steady pace. She wrapped her legs around his waist urging him to go faster and harder. He groaned and grunted as he gave into her wishes just a bit, but stopped abruptly because he didn't want it to end just yet.

"Turn over," he commanded gruffly as he slipped out of her. Her quick obedience excited him more than seeing her ass bared before him as she bent over the table, and just as swiftly as he had slipped out, he slipped back in, causing her to cry out.

This time he gave her exactly what she wanted. What he felt she deserved as he moved harder and faster against her. His hands firmly gripped her and pulled her along as she moved with him. His harsh grunts mixed with her soft high pitched groans, and it nearly drove him insane with pleasure. He roughly pulled her down on top of him as he sat back down in the chair. Her legs were spread apart across his lap, and his hand reached instinctively for that spot. Her groans became louder, and more urgent as he touched her there while moving her up and down. His other hand held her head, and exposed her supple neck to him. He sucked and grazed his sharp teeth against the soft flesh as he felt her body vibrate all over him. He couldn't hold himself any longer at the pace he was going, and so he let himself go into her, allowing his guttural cry mix with hers.

They sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, his body draped in hers. Nothing but quiet and stillness surrounded them as their bodies seemed loosely melted in place. He closed his eyes, and moved his faintly grizzled cheek against her sweet soft one. She was to be rewarded for a job well done. She was his good little woman; obedient to a fault. He turned her head towards him, and planted a protective territorial kiss on her lips. His tongue invaded the space of her mouth, claiming her as his once again self assuredly, and with pride.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he rested his head against hers, letting go of all he had held onto before.

"I know," she whispered back, and he could have sworn he heard a smile in the faintness, but he was too tired to care.


	8. Heartsick 'Points of View'

******Title:** Lesson 8: Heartsick (Points of View)

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Eyeshield 21.

His face was blank and uncaring as he handed her the envelope. She knew what it was without him saying it, and yet she still needed to say the words to make it real in her mind, because she was in total disbelief and shock. How could he be so insensitive? How could he just calmly wait for this to happen? She was determined that she would have no part in it. She would not sit by on the sidelines watching and simply waiting for the moment he would be crushed by Gaou. He was behaving as if he had seen the future, seen it happen already, and now the only thing left to do was to plan their strategy of what to do when it did. Well, she showed him exactly what she thought of that plan as she tore up the envelope in his face and tossed the pieces aside. She was not going to be his accomplice in this. She was not going to let it happen as long as she could breathe.

That was the point though, she couldn't breathe. As she ran to the nearest girl's bathroom, and shut herself away into a stall, she could feel her chest tightening under the weight of what it all meant. The tears came, and her chest heaved with every ragged sob, but the release of emotion didn't make it any easier for her to breathe as she sat there on the closed toilet seat with her arms wrapped around her body in an attempt to console herself. After a few minutes, Suzuna found her and began asking if she was alright through the closed bathroom stall door. Mamori quickly shut off the tears and pretended as best as she could that everything was fine as she emerged from the stall, splashed water on her face, and dodged any more of the cheerleader's questions. She didn't have the patience to deal with Suzuna in that moment. Not when the man she loved was not only in danger of being seriously injured, but actually counting on it happening.

Putting on the act of calmness had begun to fuel anger deep inside her as she made her way to the clubhouse. She passed the field, and saw out of the corner of her eye the Deimon players pause as their stares followed her to the clubhouse door. She expected Hiruma to be sitting there with his legs propped up on the table waiting for her. With the way the team was watching her steady march to the door, she expected a fight to be waiting for her on the other side of it, and she was prepared. It was the perfect place to yell and scream at him all she wanted; to shake some sense into that tall lanky body of his. With a swing of the door, all the fight left her body as she looked inside, and found that there was no one there. Where had he gone off to? What was he doing? The team had already begun practice with their leader nowhere to be found. Maybe that was why all eyes were on her.

She walked in and let the door swing close behind her. Collapsing into the nearest chair she let out at long sigh as hot fresh tears began to sting her eyes, and threaten to trickle down her cheeks. It was a vicious cycle she was doomed to repeat, and here she had thought that everything was alright, that they had made-up in the only way that the two of them knew how. Her body shook as she sobbed with the new tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He was always trying to find new ways to humiliate or exploit her. Somehow, that vicious streak in him had become a part of his charm, and a part of her unfathomable attraction to him. Somehow, she knew she wouldn't have him any other way. It was the times when he was careful and unguarded that bothered her the most. This had now become one of those times, and her faith that was restored just a day or so ago had now been shaken to the core. Sitting there alone in the clubhouse made her feel abandoned and utterly helpless.

He realized that she could be completely dense sometimes, but this had been the height of stupidity on her part. How could she just go and do that? How could she make such a showy display of ripping up those plans right in front of his fucking face with all the fucking brats looking on? He had let her get way out of hand, and now she was forcing him to do something else to rein her in. He pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it came to him. There was no need to punish himself as well as her; at least not at this moment. There were still other tactics he could explore to bring the woman he loved under his complete control. Things were not that far gone, not just yet. He solemnly picked up the torn pieces of the envelope, and stuffed them in the back pocket of his uniform pants. Then he grabbed his stuff, and began to make his way out to the field for practice. Right before he emerged out of the tunnel and on to the field, he decided to turn around and take a detour.

With his machine gun propped on one shoulder, and his gym bag slung over the other, Hiruma stood on the roof and calmly watched as his players took to the practice field. It wasn't easy for him. It had never been easy for him. He hated defeat, but he always believed that there was data to be gathered in defeat. In a match between him and Gaou he would certainly be defeated. Yet in that defeat there was something he needed to learn. Something he needed to know. This team he had so haphazardly put together, could it survive without him? What would happen to their dream of football once he was gone? He had known for a while, that the dream that had begun with three had now spread to the entire team. Even though he ruled his team with fear and grit, he had also given them hope, and heart. With him out of the picture, would they just let the dream fade away? Was he the only thing that was holding his ramshackle of a team together?

He couldn't let it be just that, and he needed to know if they were stronger than what they appeared to be on the outside. That fucking eyebrows was banking on the fact that if he destroyed the head then the body would fall, and Hiruma wanted to see that if the head was removed would another one grow in its place. He had put a lot of time and a lot of energy in building a football team for Deimon, and now it had become more than just a dream of winning the Christmas Bowl. It had become about what he would leave behind once he was gone. This was his last year; his last chance to make it, but it wasn't all of theirs. He wanted to know what footprint, what wound, what scar would show that he was there. He had been alone for much of his life, and he had been fine with that. Now, things had changed within him, and all he could think about was what he would leave behind. What would be his legacy? Deimon football had to survive beyond him.

He looked down and saw Mamori's tiny figure heading toward the clubhouse. Deimon football had to survive beyond her as well, and she had to realize that. The game was bigger that the two of them and the team mattered more. He made his way down from the roof and towards the clubhouse. His head down and focused on his path, he paid little attention to his players even though he could feel their eyes on him. They were expecting a showdown just as much as he was, but he didn't care. He knew what was right, and she was just going to have to live with it. Or else he was going to have to use that ultimate strategy; the one plan he hoped he would never have to use. With his hand on the doorknob he paused as he heard her sobs on the other side of the door. His thoughts carried him back to the pieces of the envelope waiting in his back pocket as he flung open the clubhouse door.

Their eyes locked on each other for an instant. They said nothing and made no sudden moves as if frozen in time. He watched a tear trail its way down her cheek from across the room, and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch downward slightly masking the pain he felt at seeing her cry. He kicked the door shut, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the pieces of the ripped up envelope and tossing them towards where she sat. They continued to stare at each other wordlessly. Their eyes never leaving the other's as the pieces of paper quietly floated down to the floor.

"Tape them up," he ground out lowly through his clenched razor sharp teeth.

"What?" She blinked up at him, not fully comprehending what he meant, because in her mind she had expected him to say something else, and that menacing thought was still replaying itself loudly in her ears.

He had already turned around to go back out the door, but he paused for a moment to toss over his shoulder, "I don't care how you do it, but you better put the fucking pieces back together again. Do you understand?" The tone of his voice made her shiver. It was commanding, authoritative, and so very cold. He had been the same way when she had ran after him that day he cut Yukimitsu from the team. His tone was so matter of fact and without feeling that she understood completely, and now she was mentally kicking herself because she had missed it earlier. If she hadn't been so blind with concern, she would have gotten what he meant immediately by giving her that envelope, but she had let her feelings for him get in the way. The team was bigger than the both of them.

She watched him walk out the door before she bent down and began picking the pieces of paper up off the floor. She wiped the tears from her raw eyes and her stained cheeks as she methodically laid the pieces out on the table. Mamori finally understood what needed to be done, and what her place in all of this was. There was no way for her to stop what was about to happen, and she didn't believe that there ever was. All she could do was hope that they all would survive this, because they had to. If their dream died so easily then was it really worth all the effort they put into it in the first place? It had never been about saving him, and it had always been about saving the team. She lined up the pieces of the envelope and the letter that had been inside. She turned the paper over because she didn't want to read the words. She didn't have to because she instinctively knew what it would say, but reading the words would just make it more real, and right now she just wanted to pretend it was just a dream.


	9. Musashi's Heart 'Things Left Unsaid'

**Title: **Lesson 9: Musashi's Heart (Things Left Unsaid)

**Characters: **Musashi, Hiruma, The devil bats, Mamori

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eyeshield 21.

There was never much for him to say, and when it involved those two, he thought it was best to say as little as possible. However, maybe it was the way she glanced ever so slightly at him as she rushed towards the clubhouse. It was a very subtle quick dart of the eyes, but he could tell in that one instance she seemed to be asking for his help, and it made him uncomfortable. As Musashi stood on the sidelines with his finger in his ear watching the team assemble on the field for practice, he thought about ignoring the flash of pleading sorrow he saw in her big blue eyes. Nothing good could ever come from him getting involved in what he considered was a personal matter. Then, Hiruma finally appeared minutes later strolling towards the clubhouse in a very calm casual fashion. Musashi exhaled in relief. He felt that all was going to be handled. The demon captain was going to fix whatever was broken, and not let it get in the way of the team.

Everyone would soon be back to their usual mood of hellish practice, and they would continue to prepare for what was sure to be a rough game. He didn't have to ask, or question. Musashi knew that their leader had everything planned out, all he had to do was support him when the time came. It was his role as part of the original Devil Bat triumvirate. He and Kurita never once questioned Hiruma's wild idea and plans, because they knew what the goal was; their hearts were set on that goal. Even though he had quit the team when they needed him most to help out with his father's business, his heart was always with them; suspended in time at that moment when he left the field that day. Time had caught up with him now, and the desire to win burned brightly in his restarted heart. Though on the outside, he remained the ever stoic, ever calm counterbalance to Hiruma's outrageous leadership.

He didn't usually practice much during a full team practice. Maybe a few kicks for show, but mostly he stood on the sidelines, and watched as Hiruma made the rest of the team run drill after drill. He ran and worked out with the team, but his main function as a kicker was a solitary one. All he needed was a few seconds, just a quick block, and then the rest was up to him. It suited his quiet nature to wait on the sidelines for the time to do his part in helping the team to victory. Hiruma was the one full of words and taunts; full of flash and fear. Musashi preferred to let his actions speak for themselves. To him, that would always be enough.

"What the fuck is going on here? You fucking brats can't have a decent practice without me?" Hiruma barked as he quickly emerged from the clubhouse.

The mood turned completely somber as everyone on the team became instantly quiet at the quarterbacks words. They weren't any different than anything he usually said. In fact, he had on occasion said worse, but there was a different vibe surrounding the team today. Musashi couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew he didn't like it. He looked around for the manager to come running on the field to get in between Sena and Hiruma during one confrontation, but she was conspicuously absent from her perch on the bleachers. The devil quarterback noticed too, and the longer she remained absent, the more he seemed to spin out of control.

"I don't fucking care how many times we have to run this fucking play, you fucking brats are gonna get this fucking perfect, do you understand?"

Hiruma flailed around waving his gun, shooting at his team, making them line up and re-line up in the same formations. Something was always off, and this wasn't like Hiruma at all. The captain Musashi knew would embrace their differences, and their quirks. He would use what others considered to be disadvantages to his advantage, and play upon the unexpected. Right now, Hiruma was going by the book, making certain that everything was perfect and precise. Musashi began to wonder a bit; was Hiruma really afraid of what Gao may do to him?

"Why do I always have to repeat myself? I thought I told the fucking monkey to line up on the left side. What the fuck? You don't know your left side from your right, fucking monkey?" Hiruma yelled menacingly as he grabbed Monta by the shoulder and dragged him to the other side of the formation.

"Hey, Hiruma. Is all this necessary? I mean, maybe we all need a break from practice right now, or we can go for a run or something," Musashi offered as he stood on the sidelines, trying his best not to stare Hiruma down.

"Hey, Musashi," Hiruma began in a mocking tone. "Why don't you get over here and run this fucking drill with them,"

"You want me to run a drill?"

"Yea, what's the matter? You think you're better than them because you're our only fucking kicker? You think you won't have to get your hands dirty in this, and all you will have to do is watch from the sidelines?"

"I never…" Musashi began; a little bit taken a back that Hiruma had suddenly turned his tirade on him.

"You're not fucking special. You're the same as any of these fucking brats. You're just a broke down fucking old man, that's the only difference. Now get your ass over here, right fucking now!"

It wasn't unheard of, he'd done it before. He had punched the Deimon captain in the face right in front of everyone to prove a point. Of course, that was all staged, and a part of one of Hiruma's carefully concocted plans. Something different was in the air now. He didn't want to get involved but he couldn't stop thinking about the look in her eyes. It was almost as if he didn't have a choice. Hiruma was about to go too far, and it fell on his shoulders to stop him. Musashi began marching towards Hiruma with purposeful strides.

The demon cackled as he stood firm. "Ooooo! You look mad! Do you think I'm fucking afraid of you? If you want to come at me then, come at me, fucking old man!"

Musashi flexed his fists by his side. He knew that even if Hiruma dodged one punch he wouldn't dodge a second. Although the chances were good that Hiruma wouldn't dodge at all; he would just stand there and take it, spit out the blood, look at him straight in the eye, and continue spewing his hatefulness.

Then something happened that took everyone by surprise. Out of nowhere, Komusubi rushed Hiruma and tackled him to the ground right before Musashi was about to confront him. The puzzled shocked look on the demon's face was priceless, and remained there for a good minute, as Komusubi slowly got up from his hold on him.

"No," Komusubi said quietly as he looked down at the ground, standing before the quarterback who was laid out flat on his back.

The look of shock on Hiruma's face immediately darkened, but Musashi didn't have time to react fast enough. The quarterback was already chasing the stout little man all over the field shooting off his gun, and yelling more abuses. As Musashi thought about what happened, he realized that it was something Kurita would have done, and Komusubi was just following in his master's footsteps.

All of the sudden the field became quiet. Musashi looked around to see her standing there; a calm quiet beauty ready and prepared to tame the loud violent beast. The beast saw her too. He stopped mid stride, and mid fire, to just look across the field at her. It was if what they needed to say to each other didn't need to be voiced. Their eyes told the story like no one else could.

"Five minute break. Go get some fucking Gatorade, but your asses better be back on this fucking field in five minutes!" Hiruma yelled and then turned on his heel and walked off in the other direction, away from her.

Musashi wanted to say something as he saw her finally take her seat on the bench, and begin jotting down notes in her practice log. He tried very hard to think of something that might be comforting, or reassuring, but the words wouldn't come to him. He didn't have that type of gift. He didn't always know the right thing to say or the right thing to do. He trusted his best friend Hiruma for that, and right now all he could do was watch helplessly as his friend began to sputter out of control. So instead of saying anything, he walked away and left her alone.

Something was happening; something more than just the specter of Gao lurking ahead of them. This was something much harder and much more powerful than the Dinosaur's perfect beast. It was love. A love that was all consuming and tormenting the both of them and neither knew how to stop it or how to deal with it. All Musashi could do was stand by and watch as these two important people in his life became engulfed in the flames. He just hoped that the team wouldn't be tossed in the fire along with them.


	10. Heartthrob 'The Perfect Drug'

**Title: **Lesson 10: Heartthrob (The Perfect Drug)

**Characters: **Hiruma/Mamori

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Eyeshield 21

Mamori stood in front of the closed hotel apartment door. As many times as she had been here, she was never filled with as much trepidation as she was in this one moment. Everything in her body screamed and yelled for her to turn around and run as fast as she could home, but there was one thing in the bottom of her heart anchoring her to that very spot. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. All she could do was stare at the taped up envelope she carried in her half mitten clad hands. Her fingertips exposed, she felt the bindings of the tape, and rubbed them fiercely. Some deep concealed part of her was wishing that if she rubbed the tape hard and long enough that it would disappear or meld succinctly with the paper of the envelope, and everything would be good as new. That same part was the part of her that knew nothing was ever going to be the same as it was. There was no going back.

She swallowed slowly and raised her hand to knock on the door. Gently at first, and then more loudly as confidence slowly began to creep its way back into her veins. She waited for the door to swing open but there was nothing. She knocked again and still nothing, but she did manage to hear some distant shuffling which let her know that someone was in the small apartment beyond that door. She knocked a third time, with all her strength, ready to cry out and beat down the door if she had too.

"Alright already, what the fu…" the demon of Deimon appeared as he swung the door fully open, interrupting Mamori in mid-knock. He was in nothing but a low slung towel loosely wrapped around his bony hips. He pressed his hands flatly to either side of the door jamb as he stepped into the opening, while his blond tendrils dripped wet all down his face. Hiruma was fresh from the shower, and he smelled clean and as ominous as the electric green eyes that piercingly gazed at her under half hooded lazy lids.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in a low voice after they stood there for a long moment in complete shock and silence. H er mouth still open, body frozen in its knocking position, she slowly brought her fist down and raised her other hand that held the mended envelope.

"I taped it up…" her voice trailed off as she tried hard to smile at the menacing gaze before her. He made no move to acknowledge her or even her effort in mending the envelope. He just continued to stare her down as if he was staring right through her at a spot on the wall behind her.

"I said I…"

"I heard you," his eyes shifted ever so slightly and focused in on her. "You still didn't answer me. Why are you here?"

"I thought you might want to see that I…"

"I gave it to you. Why would I want to see it, fucking manager? It's for your information, not mine. I wrote the fucking thing so I already know what's in it," he grunted and shifted he weight as one arm came down to rest at his side. He still leaned into the door jamb, propping himself up lazily with the other arm and crossing his slender legs.

"I've read what's in it," Mamori said calmly as she tucked the envelope into her coat pocket.

"Have you now?" He let a low short half cackle escape his mouth as he said the words. But the look on his face was anything but amused.

His nearly feline reflexes were too fast for her, and in one swift harsh movement, she found herself pinned hard against a closed front door. He had pulled her into the apartment and seemingly slammed the door shut with her body. His face was millimeters from hers, and the moisture from his damp hair drip onto her cheek.

"I asked you," he breathed onto her face. "Why are you here?" He propped himself up against the door placing his hand above her as he leaned his body closer to hers. She closed her eyes, embarrassed to look into his because behind the irritation she saw an intense heat that excited her as much as it frightened her.

"I don't know," escaped meekly from her lips. She then swallowed hard as she felt her throat go dry, and opened her eyes once more to try and gaze into his face, but she was only able to raise them to the level of his lips that were pursed into a sardonic smirk.

"I think you know why," he growled. "I think it's pretty clear…" his hand snaked out and forced its way between her legs. With his fingers pushing past her panties and his index finger finding its way inside her, she gasped. "Damn, you're wet already," he whispered next to her ear as he withdrew his finger, but continued to stoke her over the fabric of her underwear. Feeling her body quivering beneath him, she held her breath, not wanting to give in and let out the moan that had already formed in her chest.

He chucked to himself as he looked her over and she could tell that he delighted in her struggle. His hands found their way to the zipper of her winter coat and he slowly unzipped it. Never letting his eyes leave her face, he simply shrugged the coat from her shoulders. As it fell to the floor, she looked away, embarrassed by the tingling sensation that was left where his fingers had once been. With a long bony finger placed under her chin he turned her head to face him again, and began to make quick work of her necktie, and her uniform jacket. But just as he came to undoing the last button on her jacket, she grabbed his hand and stopped him. She searched his eyes for a hint of tenderness and was surprised when she didn't find any.

He easily brushed her hand aside, and it was then that things turned sinister and dangerous. Almost instantaneously, he grabbed her by her shoulders and propelled her toward the couch where he bent her over the arm. Face down on the cushion with her stomach resting flat on the arm, and a firm hand on her back, she felt her skirt fly up from the momentum, or was his other hand? She couldn't tell because just as quick his fingers had looped around the crotch of her panties and yanked roughly as he ripped them from her body. He swiveled his hips against her bare backside and she could feel the thin towel that formed a barrier between his groin and her skin fall away. She gasped and formed her mouth to protest, but he shut her down before she could voice any with a quick firm thrust inside her.

Mamori cried out in shock and orgasmic pleasure as her legs went numb beneath her. She turned and buried her face into the cushions as be began to thrust harder, faster and deeper inside of her. With her legs held apart by his knees his hands gripped her buttocks firmly as each thrust felt like it built upon the last with the sheer forcefulness and depth of his penetration.

"God, you are so…fucking…wet!" He panted heavily as he continued his furious pace. Completely embarrassed by her excitement and involuntary exhibition of her wanton need, she continued to bury her face into the cushions, letting out muffled cries as her body shuddered and gave into him over and over again.

"Fuck, I can't cum this way," he groaned roughly, then brutishly flipped her on her back down further on the couch. He pounced on top her with her legs clumsily sprawled on either side of her. Mamori peered up at the leering silhouette of Hiruma as he hovered over her, between her, and she felt her face flush hot and red. With both hands he ripped her shirt open exposing her delicate lacy bra that held her breasts underneath. Buttons flying everywhere, and she could barely hear the ripping of the fabric over her own heavy breathing. She listlessly made a move to put her arms up and cover herself but he quickly pinned her arms down into the cushions of the couch with his knees, and pushed her legs up and further apart with his forearms. In one swift concerted movement, he ripped her breasts free from the bra, and thrust himself back inside her. She cried out again loudly and sharply, with no cushion to muffle her excited yelps.

His hands gripped and kneaded her breasts, giving him the leverage he needed to pull her body along further with each buck from his hips. He leaned down over her and took one hard rosy nipple into his sharp teeth, grazing it, and making her body arch deeply in its reaction. Soon he was suckling each of her breasts in turn, long and leisurely, while his speed and force continued to mount with each deep stroke. She felt like her body couldn't take anymore and that she was at the brink of losing consciousness. She had already been reduced to a constant flood of overwhelming ecstasy and there was nothing more for her to give over to him. Her body had already telegraphed its surrender the minute he opened the door.

"So, wet. So…fucking…wet!" He groaned against her as he licked her neck and stuck his tongue into her ear. Her body was reacting on its own, and she had no control over it. Every pore and every cell within her was aching just for him as he filled her with his need. He slowed considerably, building up to one large thunderous thrust that reverberated through both their bodies. She continued to feel the shockwaves as he spilled into her, and then collapsed on top of her. The sensation that she was suffocating came over her as all his weight came down on her weakened body, and then he completed his task by claiming her mouth earnestly. His long tongue felt as though it reached the back of her throat. As he liberally explored her mouth, she melted into the couch, into him. She was a puddle of spent energy and desire.

As quickly as it had all taken place, he rolled off of her and the coldness of the room touched the exposed parts of her body. His displaced towel came hurtling towards her but she had neither the energy nor the will to lift her arms to catch it and it came to a final rest half covering her face.

"You can use that to clean up, or you may want to hop into the shower because we are going out," She heard his distant voice call and surmised he had already traversed the small living room into the bedroom behind her.

Going out? She thought numbly. I can't even move! She tested this theory as she slowly pulled the towel down from her face and tried to sit up. The simple act of sitting up required her to swing her legs off the couch and onto the floor, but it took a long time for them to even respond to her urging, and when they did she felt a soreness between them as she ambled to push herself upright into a sitting position. It took a few more minutes before she was secure enough to tackle the feat of standing on her own. While waiting for her body to regain its strength she heard the muffled sounds of Hiruma dressing in the bedroom behind her. Why did he want to go out? At this point all she really felt like doing was crawling under the covers, and hoping he would find his way next to her.

She finally pushed herself off the couch and stood up. In a moment of balance adjustment, she awkwardly made her way into the bedroom before turning and collapsing again on to the bed. Her body was drunk, drugged, and stupefied with pleasure, and the over stimulated state made her little ashamed.

"Come on, hurry up. We don't have time to just lay here. I'm already gonna be late, fucking manager."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Now go. The hot water in the shower should shock your body back to life." She looked over at him as he spoke. She could hear the mirth dripping from his lips. The exhausted state of her body was a point of pride to him. She raised herself on her elbows on the bed, and cast a rueful glance his way before standing up again and crossing over to the bathroom.

She removed what remained of her clothing, shoes and socks, an entered the tub gently pushing the shower curtain back, pulling it shut, and then turning on the shower head. She didn't flinch under the sudden assault of the hot water that quickly streamed from the shower head above her. Instead, she solemnly let it flow over her head and down her body; the pellets sending heated rejuvenating energy through her skin to her inner core. Mamori was able to summon the strength finally to lather up and begin to vigorously rub down her skin. He had been everywhere over her body and they had done many things, but this was one time that she was actually regretful for responding so easily to him.

She didn't know how long she stayed underneath the hot spray, but the water began to lose heat, and instinctively she knew it had been too long. She reached over and turned off the water, then pushed the shower curtain back to get out. Hiruma was standing there waiting in the middle of the bathroom with one of his larger heavy towels spread open waiting for her. She stepped into it, and felt his arms circle around her as he wrapped her up into the towel.

"You'll get wet," she said softly as she closed her eyes and nestled against his chest.

"I don't care," he responded low and held her closer.

"But you're already dressed."

"I don't care."


End file.
